Travelers Welcome

Thursday, August 15, 2013

The Turtle You Are Not

by Lauren Gordon

One must have a remarkable body plan. Be willing to show the shape of your life as a scaled corpuscle. Spend your life belly to dirt, looking down at objects before your eyes. Gaze with the full spectrum of unfathomable color, because this makes up for your cold blood. Occasionally, you will have to be brown. Own your bulk, your poor pursuit movement, the time you spend eating a plate of lettuce, ignoring your mother. Look down at what is in front of you, never what is aside, behind. Maybe you will swim, maybe you will possess glands that produce tears to rid your body of the excess salt you take in when you drink. One must oscillate air on the floor of one’s throat quietly. Surface at regular intervals to blink the ocean.